


from the valley

by mockturtletale



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Fear, Introspection, Jordan-centric, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:44:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1850038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockturtletale/pseuds/mockturtletale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just pressure. Grip. Breathless fear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from the valley

Jordan drives out to Cooking Lake when things get to be just a little too much for him for him deal with. It’s about a thirty minute drive and getting there is just as important as being there.

He sits and looks out across the water and nothing in the world makes him feel as calm as the spread of it, right out until it meets the sky.

Jordan doesn’t like to swim. He says it’s because it’s not the kind of exercise he needs or is suited to, but that’s not the real reason. He’s scared. He’s a strong enough swimmer, but even in pools the water feels huge, heaving endless against him, pressure on every side that leaves him struggling for breath.

Sitting with the lake spread out before him, Jordan can’t forget that fear, that feeling. Why he’s here.

Ryan and Taylor don’t come to get him for an hour, sometimes two, depending on how and when and why he left.

He supposes they sit around back in the apartment and figure out what brought it on this time, need to try and make sense of why he had to leave before they feel like they can come bring him back.

It’s never their fault, never even a case of something being _wrong_.

Just pressure. Grip. Breathless fear.

From nowhere specific and everywhere all at once. Crowding him, drowning him.

He heads out here to get away. To sit and face his fears and find his way out of them.

It takes a while, but he finds himself underneath it all. He reaches down and climbs back into every protection he’s built up from this, wrought armor forged of every second that he’s ever beaten, moments he’s been bigger than. Safe with home in his bones, he fights back to the surface.

They don’t touch him when they find him, sit next to him but not too close. Neither of them speak, not to him and not to one another. The three just look out at the lake, watch the ripples and breathe.

Only when he reaches for their hands do they rise to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> Not true, not profiting.


End file.
